


Transplanted

by sanshadancer



Category: Sime~Gen - Jacqueline Lichtenberg & Jean Lorrah
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanshadancer/pseuds/sanshadancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transplanted to new settings and torn by culture differences, channels and donors work out their relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transplanted

Transplanted  
By  
Sanshadancer

Chapter 1

 

Fenris Farris ambrov Zeor gestured with a tentacle to his driver. “Stop a moment.”

The renSime driver looked back. “Hajene?”

“Stop,” Fenris said patiently. 

The driver gave him a scandalized look. Traffic in busy Valzor didn’t allow for casual stops, particularly in front of the Zeor Selyn Center, one of the most crowded spots in the city. But then he zlinned the channel’s nager again, and snorted. One of those, maybe.

“Wait, Hajene.” He careened onto a side road, up a drive, found the tourist scenic turnoff, and killed the engine, waving all the tentacles of one arm at the view stretching before them. “There. Is this what you wanted?”

Fenris didn’t answer. Laid out in front of him was part of the Zeor he’d heard so much about from Jorn Farris during his time at Rialite, both before and after he’d been adopted into the House. The mill buildings, the river landing, the hills and some of the fields. But only a few stones of the court buildings’ turrets could be seen from this prospect; even now in these more peaceful times after a tentative Unification among territories, Zeor still kept its residences from prying eyes. And there were parts open to the public now that Jorn himself had never seen and so could not have described, such as the new Selyn Center, where Fenris would be working. 

He couldn’t deny being curious. But he preferred to have this first curiosity satisfied away from his future colleagues and house members. It was hardly professional of a channel. And a bit adolescent for someone of his age, both to have the emotion and to indulge in it. But having seen the lay of the land, by himself, before he was enveloped by more encompassing responsibilities, he could put that aside, satisfied. It was really here and so was he. He had arrived. 

He sat back and nodded to the cabbie. “You can drive on now.”

“Do you want the tour entrance or the Selyn Center?” The driver asked, scratching his head absently with a careless tentacle.

Fenris was nonplussed, not having expected such a choice, and temporarily torn again, tempted at least to hear more. “There’s a tour?”

The driver turned around, to get a better look at his client, his eyebrows waggling in elaborate patience for this naive rube. “Sure there’s a tour, Hajene. What would you expect? Historical center. Museum. Education center. Reenactments. All that sort of thing. Not that you’d see anything of the real place, that’s for members only. But if they didn't give the tourists the old song and dance, they'd have them hanging around, to be tripped over, while they try to work.” He gave Fenris a narrowed look, trying to penetrate his nager, to evaluate him as the arriving neophyte professional he'd first taken him for, or a mere tourist, then gave up. “Tours are at ten and two. You missed the first. You’ll have a wait for the second.”

Fenris hesitated in answering, wishing he had known ahead of time of this. But he’d already spent too much time in frivolous pursuits. And he had a more pressing appointment. He’d see it all soon enough. As a member.

“The Center.”

The driver pulled onto the main road. “I didn’t take you for a fleckin' tourist,” he grunted, complaining about the detour.

Fenris didn’t argue, knowing the renSime had zlinned him for what he was, a channel assigned to the Center. He paid the cabbie, tipping him generously for his trouble. Then, marshalling his control, he strode into Zeor’s Selyn Center. Large, spacious and new, the building thrummed with a subdued intensity of combined nagers, essentially managed, but still, the sheer power of it was a bit daunting for a channel of his sensitivity. He presented his credentials to the receptionist and was directed to a ward. He found it with no trouble and sat in the waiting area until the time of his appointment. 

While he was waiting, he watched the patients, some of them perhaps soon to be his own. The waiting area was selyn baffled into small alcoves, each holding a few seats, with only one or two people in each alcove. There was a mixed collection, a strung out Channel in turnover, with a Donor protectively at his side, a pre-Changeover kid who had Farris stamped on his features, a couple of high field Gens, obviously not professional Donors, who were waiting together. None of them looked particularly happy or comfortable, and Fenris felt a touch of sympathy for them. Channel or Donor, if you ended up, not just in Zeor’s Selyn Center as a patient, which had a reputation for taking the toughest cases in the world, but in the very ward run by Ven Farris, the Sectuib in Zeor, you’d pretty much reached the end of the hopeful train.

Or the hoped for train.

As had he, perhaps. In that, he wasn’t too different from his future patients.

He wondered what he would find.

 

To be continued… if there's interest


End file.
